Greetings.
Hi.
Welcome. Grab a bowl of cereal. Or Schmereal, if you feel like living an alternative lifestyle.
"Truth must of necessity be stranger than fiction...for fiction is the creation of the human mind, and therefore is congenial to it." -G.K. Chesterton
You have entered. I'm not sure why. Read onward if you really have nothing better to do with your life so desire.
Forgotten Machine The new machinery, tangled in wire
Its rusty predecessor short-circuits
But while the ancient drowns under the mire,
The new-born calculates and interprets
“How could I have been replaced so quickly?”
Laments the shocked face of metal wreckage
“My masters once told me that they loved me”
But now the infant sits upon the ledge
The cycle is bound to repeat itself
Machines are only worth the length they run
Consumers in their ignorance and wealth
Won’t satisfy themselves with only one
So oblivious to the impending;
The poor machine’s life will soon be ending.
Marco
I keep repeating,
But they never hear.
Time is fleeting,
I keep repeating
Requested a global meeting,
Told six billion, “Listen here!”
I keep repeating
But they never hear.
Sometimes poems only take thirty seconds to write.
This is my haiku
I hope that you enjoy it.
Oh no, it's over!
Untitled
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who accidentally swallowed a rock. He went to the hospital and died.
I am referring to the man, not the rock.
If I had been referring to the rock, I would not have known what pronoun to use, because the rock's name was "Pat," which does not specifically indicate a gender. Quite frankly, I am glad that the rock did not die, because I would have been confused. I didn't, however, care much for the man.
You might be wondering, "Why isn't the writer more sympathetic towards the man from Nantucket."
It's because he wasn't able to write a proper limerick.
Airport
The girl wandered the terminal
Awaiting his delayed return
Comfort is ephemeral,
And this she quickly learned
As she sate in a most uncomfortable chair
The stiffness of the skeleton
Grew impossible to bear
She watched the sinking sun.
Not a minute had passed since she last checked the clock
Time seemed so vast
Waiting for someone to knock
There was no tell-tale mast
Approaching the desolate dock
Another airplane tore
Through the sunlit clouds
But the passengers it bore
Did not include the proud
Man who had left for war,
And now she cried out loud,
“Have I waited too long,
Or not long enough?
Should I stay strong
And wait for my love?”
Day gave way to night
More hours had been wasted
Waiting for a flight;
A flight so long belated
She could no longer wait,
So tired of asking, “When?”
She burst through the gate
And was never seen again
The plane took flight,
Passed through the clouds
Where day sheds light
And night forms shrouds.
Opeth - Isolation Years
Hi.
Welcome. Grab a bowl of cereal. Or Schmereal, if you feel like living an alternative lifestyle.
You have entered. I'm not sure why. Read onward if you really have nothing better to do with your life so desire.
Forgotten Machine
The new machinery, tangled in wire
Its rusty predecessor short-circuits
But while the ancient drowns under the mire,
The new-born calculates and interprets
“How could I have been replaced so quickly?”
Laments the shocked face of metal wreckage
“My masters once told me that they loved me”
But now the infant sits upon the ledge
The cycle is bound to repeat itself
Machines are only worth the length they run
Consumers in their ignorance and wealth
Won’t satisfy themselves with only one
So oblivious to the impending;
The poor machine’s life will soon be ending.
Marco
I keep repeating,
But they never hear.
Time is fleeting,
I keep repeating
Requested a global meeting,
Told six billion, “Listen here!”
I keep repeating
But they never hear.
Sometimes poems only take thirty seconds to write.
This is my haiku
I hope that you enjoy it.
Oh no, it's over!
Download my Calligrame!
Untitled
There once was a man from Nantucket
Who accidentally swallowed a rock. He went to the hospital and died.
I am referring to the man, not the rock.
If I had been referring to the rock, I would not have known what pronoun to use, because the rock's name was "Pat," which does not specifically indicate a gender. Quite frankly, I am glad that the rock did not die, because I would have been confused. I didn't, however, care much for the man.
You might be wondering, "Why isn't the writer more sympathetic towards the man from Nantucket."
It's because he wasn't able to write a proper limerick.
Airport
The girl wandered the terminal
Awaiting his delayed return
Comfort is ephemeral,
And this she quickly learned
As she sate in a most uncomfortable chair
The stiffness of the skeleton
Grew impossible to bear
She watched the sinking sun.
Not a minute had passed since she last checked the clock
Time seemed so vast
Waiting for someone to knock
There was no tell-tale mast
Approaching the desolate dock
Another airplane tore
Through the sunlit clouds
But the passengers it bore
Did not include the proud
Man who had left for war,
And now she cried out loud,
“Have I waited too long,
Or not long enough?
Should I stay strong
And wait for my love?”
Day gave way to night
More hours had been wasted
Waiting for a flight;
A flight so long belated
She could no longer wait,
So tired of asking, “When?”
She burst through the gate
And was never seen again
The plane took flight,
Passed through the clouds
Where day sheds light
And night forms shrouds.
Opeth - Isolation Years